I’m about to admit my only character flaw to you all… I’m impatient. (Pause for gasps.) Yes, me, the teacher, is impatient. I’m very patient with my students, patient with my slow computer, and patient waiting for my nails to dry. But when it comes to food, bitch don’t make me wait 45 minutes.

I don’t cook because…. well because… um… I just don’t want to. You have to like think about what you’re making, check to be sure you have all the ingredients, put them together, heat them up or something, and then comes the worst part- you have to clean it all up. Ugh. By then it’s 7 or 7:30 and all the good shows are on (you know, Modern Family, Real Housewives of well, anywhere etc.) and there I am with my hubbie groaning about loading the dishwasher and putting food down the disposal. Because of this extremely taxing experience, I prefer to eat at restaurants when I get the chance.

We head to restaurant #1. We park the car about 3 miles from the entrance and hope it’s not busy. Um, duh, red flags were waving at us in the face and we ignored them.

“Hi, ” I say to the hostess, “2 people please!” I always think that a big smile and overly sweet greetings will get us in faster.

“45 minutes!” she says just as sweetly, handing me the buzzer.

I turned my head in such a panic I almost bitch slapped that poor hostess in the face with my hair. The hubs and I agreed we wouldn’t wait that long, handed the buzzer back, and bolted in search of food from somewhere else. But not before I slipped out a nasty, “That’s why we don’t come here,” just loud enough for the hostess holding the door open to hear. I’m not proud of that one, but when I get hungry I turn into a completely different person.

Off we went to restaurant #2 (my pick!). We never have to wait there, this was a sure thing! We walked in and I did the chipper and overly sweet, “Two people please!”

“45 minutes!” she said through a smile and handed me the buzzer. This time I did not even confer with the hubs. I pushed that buzzer right back and we headed out the door.

“Now what?!” I said, as if there were about to be a nuclear attack and we had 5 minutes to find food or we’d starve.

We decided fast food was the way to go and happily walked right up to the register, ordered, and ate our food within 20 minutes (What can I say? We were hungry.) We hopped in the car and headed home, 3 restaurants later, satisfied.

So here’s my question to you: How long is appropriate to wait for a table at a restaurant? How long are you willing to wait? Am I the only one who is too impatient to wait more than a half hour for a table? If I’m psycho please feel free to let me know that as well, everyone needs a reality check once in a while. But be brief, I don’t have the patience to read through long comments.

So the lady at the post office through my credit card at me with the most pissed off look I have ever seen. I looked from my credit card back to her in disbelief. “Oh, so we’re doing this?” I was ready to fly over the counter and show her the true meaning of Christmas.

OK let me back up a bit here. You see, last Saturday I made a quick trip to the post office. We live in a small town and I thought I’d just run in real quick and get some stamps. Shutterfly gave me 10 free Christmas cards in October, so I picked out the most extravagant (and pricey) cards they had. Hey, they were free! The catch was that they were those perfectly squared cards that for some reason require extra postage. Hence my visit to the post office last Saturday. Ten 64 cent stamps. That was my mission.

I walked in, bedhead and all. There were at least 25 people who turned to look at me who were also making a quick trip to the post office the Saturday before Christmas. I found my spot in line and listened to two older women in front me talk about what was in their packages. Gifts for their grandkids… “Teenage boys are so hard to buy for!” I patiently waited 35 minutes for my turn in line. The lady in front of me paid just under $22 to ship her gift (Are you kidding me??) and then I approached the counter.

“Hello! I’m going to be an easy customer today. I just need ten stamps for these square cards and I’ll be on my way!” I was so cheerful and pleasant it was almost sickening. I figured this poor woman could use a break from crankiness.

“Oh,” she said, “We’re out.” Scowling.

“Really? Out? I know it’s not your fault or anything but… I’ve been here for 35 minutes waiting for these stamps. Maybe you should put a sign up or something. Then people will see it and leave if that’s what they came for.”

“Do you want me to make an announcement or something,” she groaned.

“No, just thought a sign might prevent someone from waiting like I did.”

“I can sell you a book of stamps and you can just put 2 on every card,” she suggested.

SIIIIGH “Fine. I’ve waited this long, might as well get them mailed off.” I ran my credit card through and she asked to see it. She tossed it back at me and it landed on the counter. Wow. Really? We’re doing this? This is happening? I’m so going to fly over this counter at you cranky post office lady. I looked up and saw a surveillance camera. This changed my mind.

“Sorry,” she said with the same scowl. I took my stamps, walked over to a different counter and began sticking them on my envelopes. Suddenly the bright red marker I used to address all of them didn’t seem so cheerful anymore. As I worked on my cards, the post office lady said in a loud voice to the entire post office….

“WELL, THIS GAL OVER HERE (points at me) SAYS I SHOULD MAKE AN ANNOUNCEMENT ABOUT THEM!”

I died a slow death as this woman embarrassed the supreme crap out of me. Enraged, I turned around. I waved my arms around and wiggled my hips, “YAH! BECAUSE THEY’RE OUT!”

I shoved my envelopes into the mailbox, avoided any and all eye contact with the long line of customers and left the post office. Merry Christmas to you too lady. Merry Christmas indeed…

I swore that while traipsing across the parking lot I would be ambushed by cameras and people screaming, “You got punked!” My eyes darted around the lot and saw no cameras. I got in my car and just started laughing. The past 40 minutes were something from an SNL skit that could appear on their Christmas special. I called my mom and together we laughed so hard that I literally cried while describing what had just happened. It’s times like these, where if you don’t laugh you’ll cry. And if the story is really good, you’ll do both!